Being present

As I have written in other entries, this trip has been as much about the internal as the external. One lesson I have been working on is staying in the present moment. Travel gives many opportunities to practice. When I am uncomfortable, tired, hungry...in the past I would have worked to endure the moment by thinking about the next good thing that was coming, or distractng myself with this or that to get through the discomfort. I have been playing with a different approach. Whenever I find my mind complaining or wandering or my body too hot, cramped, fatigued (these complaints, once it is established I am safe from immediate harm, are another kind of distraction) I say "This moment is beautiful. There is beauty in this moment." I look for it.
On a bus in 98 degrees, stuck in traffic, exhaust fumes and dust pouring in the open windows, squished sideways into a seat that does not allow for long legs, my mind goes to distraction and complaint. "Look for the beauty in this moment." I see a pair of women, one in a bright goldenrod yellow sari and one in a fushia sari winding carefully through the mass of tuk tuks, trucks, motorcycles. The bright colors transcend the dust as the fabric ripples in the breeze. The dashboard on the truck next to me (I could easily touch it through the window it is so close) has a nice dashboard shrine for Lord Vishnu, complete with tiny blinking lights. And in this moment, the women have crossed the road out of view, the clog begins to drain and slowly there is movement (and the sound of many horns in all their declarations from the small squeaky tuk tuk to the big trucks and buses booming).
How much have I escaped from moments and missed the beauty as I threw the baby out with the bathwater? Deemed as unpleasant, uncomfortable, viewed as something to endure, how much have I missed? India is a good place to practice this, as many moments have the good, the bad, and the ugly mixed together (if I chose to see it that way). I have been working to see what is, without judging it or closing my heart, while looking for the beauty that is there.
Two girls run by holding hands and shrieking with laughter. Their hair wild and dreadlocked, covered head to toe in a layer of dirt as thick as their skin, but not thick enough to hide the bruises and marks on their thin arms and legs. Sound of bare feet padding on rough pavement. I want to see the dirt, not flinch from the bruises, but also delight in their friendship and that moment of joy. I want to stay in that NOW, instead of succumbing to feelings of impotence or the guilt of the privileged. I want to keep my heart open, without that meaning that I bleed dry trying to fill all the holes I can see.
Even as I write this, I see another way of being here. On a boat ride in Varanasi on the river Ganges, the holy river, the polluted river, a fellow passenger accidentally dipped her fingers in the water. She said "Ew! Ew! I touched the water!" and looked anxiously for something to wipe her hand on. I am in this country for 3 weeks. In this old and complex place with a rich, diverse, and painful history, I am a tourist skimming the surface of the holy waters in a boat that protects me from the pollution mixed in with the sacred. I don't know if I am yet willing to do more than "see the dirt" and the beauty. This "seeing" still implies separation. For this first trip to India I am letting down some but not all guards. I think I have touched the surface of the water, and intentionally let it dry on my hand, while still safe in my boat. It feels a limitation of time, and I don't think I know yet how to do more in just 23 days.